Willpower
by mew-tsubaki
Summary: M&MWP. Drabble. Slash, for Mor. 1st REGULUS/FRANK! Because there was one thing in your life you almost got right—and you actually did something about it. Mention if used, thx. *T only for language*


**Willpower**

A HariPo oneshot

by mew-tsubaki

Note: The _Harry Potter_ characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. **This pairing was discovered by my buddy, ****Morghen****, so please give her a little mention if you write them**! **Thanks**! It is one of many of **Mew and Mor's Weird Pairings**, most of which you may find in Mor's and my forum, "Mew and Mor's Weird Pairings Fan Stories," found here (Just take out the spaces!): **http : / forum. fanfiction. net/ forum /Mew_and_Mors_Weird_Pairings_Fan_Stories /76194 /** Read, review, and enjoy! And check out and join the forum FUN! Note: For **Mor**, who's ever lovely. :3

- ^-^3

Strange how Sirius is the "screw-up" but you can't help feeling he's got the best life in the world.

Being Regulus Black isn't a walk on High Street. No, being Regulus Black comes with expectations. So you'll blindly follow them. Why? Well, why _not_? It's not as though you have anything better to do. You don't have friends, mates…

You look on in the background, seeing your brother's friends. Yep, there they are, all four…

No, that's not quite right. Three are definitely his best friends. The last one…he's a friend, yet he isn't. He's one of the group, yet he's a stranger.

Oh.

You hadn't thought much of it at first. And why would you have? You have expectations to meet. You can't sit around wondering why there's a tiger in a den of lions. You won't let it get to you that his stripes make him stick out like a sore thumb. Your mind clearly ignores how his smile is just this more wan and this less genuine, how his laugh is less a laugh and more a forced chuckle, how his body language stiffens when he sits with them and the girls from their year and dorm.

Yes, you will ignore him, because you've got your heart set on becoming the nothing that you are expected to be.

Even as the years go by, you never give in to your curiosities. First year? You happened to learn his name—Frank Longbottom—by overhearing it. Second year? You glimpsed he was the only third year in the library not on his first Hogsmeade trip. Third year? You walked by accidentally as he rebuffed Alice Bulstrode's romantic advances. Fourth year? You tuned out Mulciber and Avery's snipes about Longbottom being a blood-traitor. Fifth year? You were already starting to feel sad, knowing what your future held, what his future probably held.

Maybe that's why, at fifteen, you decided it was high time to do one thing—_something_—for yourself and not for your family.

If he couldn't fit in with Sirius, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew... If you couldn't feel one-hundred percent comfortable around your fellow Slytherins, especially the ones starting to call themselves "Death Eaters," then maybe... Just maybe... Maybe that tiger wouldn't mind being your friend.

It was an absurd thought. He honestly looked as though he could care less. However, though he tried to be apathetic about things, you just saw right through it. And your chest twinged.

Oh.

Frank, with his dark hair and dark eyes and slightly bumbling habits, was someone in dire need of care. Even if the words couldn't surface, it was plain on his face. And it bothered you that Sirius and his mates didn't see that in their roommate.

But you didn't mind too much, because all you needed was one moment, one bit of his time…and you knew he'd be hooked.

All it took was the right topic, the right sentence, the right word, and he was enthralled. It was a new world opening to him, and you smiled when he wasn't looking, that idea of the lonely tiger stalking the prey it'd never have banished now from your mind.

Sixth year? You came to _love_ those stripes…

Oh.

You weren't stupid. Regulus Black was smart not because someone else did his work for him; he was smart on his own. So you wouldn't miss how your breath hitched when he was too near, how your body turned in his direction any time you heard his footfall, how you couldn't fight the tiniest of smirks from appearing on your lips whenever you heard him say "Regulus." It didn't have to be "Reg" or "Reggie"—somehow, he managed to personalize "Regulus" and make it all his own.

That was heaven.

But you knew the expectations that had practically been set for you at birth. You knew this heaven was going to come crashing down on you and you wouldn't be able to stop it. The best you could do was grab hold of what you had left and savor it. Merlin, savor it 'til the very end.

At some random point—perhaps when studying for a test?—you overheard the girls in your House, giggling about kissing their boyfriends in the rain. It was supposed to be sweet and airy and just purely romantic—enough to make you sick. You looked out the window.

Fuck the sun and the blue, blue sky.

You won't deny you had the urge to try it. Even if Frank wouldn't accept, you could steal that chance from him. You could have the one thing you want before everything blew up in your face.

And…just like that…lead turned into gold. Tiger-striped gold, that is.

Lupin was whining at Sirius—how unbecoming yet befitting of such an effeminate half-blood—to clean up their last prank. At first all you could think was _Get a room, you two_, but then... Then Lupin growled at Sirius, saying it would be horrid if Dumbledore found out it was the Marauders who'd spelled a bucket of water above his office door.

You took the chance and seized life by the reigns for once, coming up with some excuse to get Frank out and about. What did you say, anyway? "Let's go snog by the headmaster's office"? "Wanna find out how I _really_ feel about you"?

Ah, you tried the timeless "Let's go for a walk."

Frank complied, quite all right considering he'd been studying for N.E.W.T. exams. And so you wandered the halls and traipsed through corridors and when you happened upon ol' Dumbly's office, you pretended to be interested in something at the foot of the spiral staircase and—

Well, with that bloody sun out, you couldn't have kissing in the rain unless you made the rain yourself.

Standing drenched, shivering in soaked robes, you froze. You hadn't been expecting to be the only one drowned. And by Salazar, it was embarrassing. At that point, you would've given anything in the world for a crowd, because for him to see you alone like this was the worst thing in the world.

He neared you, ready to say something, his face crumpled with concern and hurt on your behalf. Then he, too, was soaking. Go figure Sirius would never do anything half-assed; the bucket had been spelled to spill twice as a precautionary measure. And as you darkly chuckled internally, you thanked your brother for his delightful dimwitted cleverness…which wasn't too much of a paradox if you thought about it.

Frank paused, looked at him and you and himself again…and then…laughed. A real laugh, too, not what he'd give his fellow Gryffindors, his fair-weather lions.

The sound made your heart crumble and you hooked a finger in the neck of his sweater, pulling him down and tasting a dessert better than ambrosia.

He was hesitant for a second before leaning into it. You hadn't been too sure he'd do anything other than possibly hex or hit you…though, really, Frank isn't that type of person. But—but—the last thing on your mind had been for him to cup the back of your neck, his hand warm and soft. Dear Merlin, you could've died right there and been happy.

Then, just like that, the moment was over and your eyes were open, and he was smiling at you just as always, as though nothing had happened. But something _had_ and it was so much better than needing any real rain and you inwardly were thanking your brother for the impromptu manmade downpour and your mind couldn't have been fuzzier as Frank towed you along by your hand. His body language was all "friends," but his hand was something more.

So did it mean something? Was it a joke to him or were things going to be a little bit better in your last few days in heaven? Had you made the move and would you now wait for him to make the next? But wasn't the hand-holding the next?

Oh.

…

_Oh._

That _was_ his move. You didn't mind, though, because it was the best thing in the world to you. Frank was always better at showing his feelings than speaking them aloud.

Oh, Regulus, Regulus, Regulus... You're wearing tiger stripes now—good for you.

- ^-^3

**Ah-ha... Originally intended to be a drabble like so many of my other oneshots…but I loved this. And **_**making**_** a kiss in the rain happen... X3 *NOM* They are irresistible…I have such a clear picture in my head, thanks to manga artist Miki Aihara. I was just picturing how she draws her boys... -w- Siriusly. Google 'em. …*lol*, "siriusly"—thank Merlin for Sirius' pranks, no?**

**Thanks for reading and please review!**

**-mew-tsubaki B)**


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